This being the case, it may fairly be said that Pillings has at last settled down into his proper place, and is one of the few instances of the "round man in a round hole." He has not always been at the toll-gate; on the contrary, his life has been somewhat varied, and he has experienced a good many of the ups and downs of the world. He began by being "bound 'prentice" to a carpenter, but his temper was against him, and so when his time was up he took to the more active life of a sailor. Here again his enemy found him out, and he said good-bye to his shipmates without much sorrow on their part. "'Bout as much use a-talking to _him_ as a marlinspike. Mate yer calls him! Nasty sulky beggar! In everybody's mess and nobody's watch," was the general verdict of the men; so it was no wonder they were glad to see him go over the side. For the second time Mr. Pillings was in want of a job, and on this occasion he took to butchering, which he thought might be more likely to agree with his temperament. But in about two months he quarrelled with his master, and after they had had it out in the slaughter-house Pillings found himself once more in the world with three half-crowns in his pocket, about ten pounds at the bank, and a pair of as beautiful black eyes as one would wish to see, to say nothing of a nose three times its proper size, and a good many teeth very shaky. When he had got his countenance back to its pristine beauty he tried his hand at The Red Cow as barman, and, strange to say, he managed to get on in this capacity very well. The Red Cow, it must be known, is an inn much frequented by the knights of the pencil, so that Pillings, by keeping his ears open, and by a few judicious investments, soon managed to make a nice little nest-egg for himself; and having fallen a victim to the charms of the chambermaid, he offered to share his fortune with her. Unfortunately for him the lady was "willing," and in a few months became Mrs. P., and shortly afterwards a mother. The landlord of The Red Cow, on finding it out, was exceeding wroth, and sent John and his spouse packing instanter, which, as may be supposed, did not improve the man's temper or conduce to the domestic happiness of his wife. After various ups and downs too numerous to enter into, to make a long story short, John Pillings, through the interest of a "friend at court," found himself installed at the gate-house, with nothing to do but open the gate, take the toll, and occasionally vary the monotony of existence by getting tipsy and belabouring his spouse. The latter event has become more frequent of late years, as, unlike the generality of things, the older he gets the _tighter_ he gets, and often people are surprised to find the gate open and no one to take the money, "Old Sulky" being drunk in bed, and his wife having taken refuge with a neighbour until her husband is all right again.